mothers day

Everywhere I look, there are flowers, chocolates and cards written in mauve copperplate... Everywhere, shop windows full of them. And in my case, that’s where they'll stay. We don’t ‘do’ Mothers Day at our house.

Here in Australia, lots of people will be doing it very soon. It's huge here. It gives Christmas a good run for its money.

“It’s a pile of commercial crap”, says my husband. And so he won't huddle the kids in a corner to discuss how to surprise mummy, when to bring in the flowers, who’s going to give her the biggest cuddle. The best I’ll get is a flimsy piece of folded A4 sent home from school with a stencil drawing and the words "haffi muders de'. Not that I’m complaining. I’m not.

Mike’s right, of course; Mothers Day is just one huge day of overhyped mush, a marketing push to shift rainforests of greetings cards, overpriced flowers, chocolate by the ton and restaurant takings by the set ‘mothers day menu’. And Hallmark schmaltz really isn’t my thing.

It wasn’t the thing of Anna Jarvis, the ‘creator’ of the modern-day Mothers Day, either. This, from Wikipedia: “Anna Jarvis was born in the tiny town of Webster in Tyalor Country, West Virginia. She was the daughter of Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis... On May 12, 1907, two years after her mother's death, she held a memorial to her mother and thereafter embarked upon a campaign to make "Mother's Day" a recognized holiday. She succeeded in making this nationally recognized in 1914. The International Mother's Day Shrine was established in Grafton to commemorate her accomplishment. By the 1920s, Anna Jarvis had become soured on the commercialisation of the holiday. She incorporated herself as the Mother’s Day International Association, claimed copyright on the second Sunday of May, and was once arrested for disturbing the peace. She and her sister Ellsinore spent their family inheritance campaigning against the holiday. Both died in poverty. Jarvis, says her New York Times obituary, became embittered because too many people sent their mothers a printed greeted card. As she said, "A printed card means nothing except that you are too lazy to write to the woman who has done more for you than anyone in the world. And candy! You take a box to Mother—and then eat most of it yourself. A pretty sentiment!"

Well, if it were ever a woman’s perogative to change her mind... Mind you, if I were to have a pure thought (it may happen) and it was snatched greedily by money-spinners, I might attempt to go back and sully it, too. And I hate the way the kids have their hands on my walnut whips before I even get a chance...

But here’s where I have mixed feelings about Mothers Day. It was originally more about soft sentiments than soft-centres, about due respect rather than assorted biscuits, about making sure you take a moment to consider your mother and show your appreciation before it’s too late. Before she’s gone to the great chocolate box in the sky. And surely there's nothing wrong with that. Lord knows how 'the unsaid' has driven many an aching dramatic plot.

And to its great opposers, I’d like to mention that honouring the mother isn’t just the brain-melt of some batty lady in West Virginia a century ago, there are other festivals that share the same subject matter. A religious festival celebrating motherhood has been existent in Europe since approximately 250 BC when the Romans honoured the mother goddess Cybele during mid-March, for instance. And if we’re going to throw our cash at Woollies and Toys R Us without a thought for the little baby Jesus come Christmas Day, then where’s the sin in splashing a little on Mum?

No, I’m not backtracking here. I don’t secretly harbour desires for Caithness glass (actually, I do) or trays of chocs to be eaten in slippers on a sofa in an overheated living room with an awkward air of gratitude-cum-puzzlement. Why are we doing this again?Because kids can give, but tell them that they must sit and consider and they’d rather play with lego. I don’t blame them. No one really appreciates a mother until they've become one. So no, I’m not backtracking, but I am asking – in response to the mothers day cynics, who invariably suggest that mothers can be honoured on any day of the year: When? Tell me when?

My family loves me, I am certain of that. And I get given gifts all the time – stones from the garden, countless drawings of unicorns from my daughter; and my son often brings home a clay craft project from kindergarten customarily resembling a turd... How much of this is honouring me, or merely expecting me to find accommodation for these items, I don’t know. And I don’t want anything else – clay turds on the windowsill will do just fine.

But rather than dismissing Mothers Day altogether, throwing the sentiment out with the flower water, the occasional nod would be nice. It doesn't have to be on mothers day, it doesn't have to involve money, it doesn’t even have to involve laboured hugs and kisses. But maybe a thanks here and there, and peace. Yes, peace - just an hour without a demand, a reminder, a blast-off sound, a screach, a whinge, a noisy toy, a cry of 'maaaahmy', a smashing glass, a thwacked sibling. Just one hour to consider my ears and ease my aching head.

In fact, I think all mummies might benefit, if on Mothers Day their families put aside ideas of fancy blooms, butter-rich biccies and novelty leg-warmers... and just put a sock in it.